The Phantoms of the Opera Populaire
by Hui Xie
Summary: YGO x PotO crossover! The Paris Opera house is not just haunted by one Phantom...it's haunted by SEVEN! Seven which, you ask? A story of pharoahs and thiefs and yamis and sennen items, Erik will have lots to compete with for the role of Phantom!


OMG I finally have this posted.

WSJ and I have been so busy tinkering out the little parts, but I finally managed to get it onto my account. See? This is what happens when you get us online and ranting about how Yu-Gi-Oh characters would react to the Phantom plotline. (By Susan Kay)

* * *

**The Phantoms of the Opera Populaire**

By Hui Xie and Wingleader Sora Jade

Chapter One

To put it mildly, it was boiling out. And even then, Erik had insisted that it must've been a euphemism to use such a term. This was not "boiling". This was hell-drenched heat of scorching flames that conceived deathly waves of unbearable warmth and hallucinations. A hell on Earth.

"Hallucinations?" his companion, the Persian, had said incredulously. "So this is one _not _induced by morphine?"

"Opium," Erik had snapped coldly back. "And if I may correct you, my dear Persian, it was _you _who introduced me to such a wondrous ambrosia of the heavens. And, if, I may, once again, my dear Persian, it was _you _who dragged me out here."

"Forgive me," his companion had smiled, nodding in apology. "But I had thought that this trip would please you. After all, you were so curious when you first stepped foot into Persia."

"The palace awaits, Nadir," Erik had smirked, straightening and wiping his brow.

Nadir watched as Erik looked about curiously, his eagerness and anticipation almost as giddy and excited, that one could see a young boy jumping behind his eyes. Of course, the cold, composed foreigner of mysterious pasts had never been a giddy, happy boy. If not Erik had convinced Nadir that he knew possibly every word under the sun (scorching sun, if Erik might've add), the Persian would've thought the word "happy" had never come across Erik's mind.

"Happy" was when Erik had injected a needle into his flesh, and was dozing in a land where he only dreamed of. Nadir sighed.

Thank goodness he had managed to get himself, as well as Erik, a trip to Egypt. In Persia, the heat, in Nadir's opinion, was far more overwhelming than that of the Egyptian star. What with the Empress and the Shah and Erik's oh-so-wonderfully-known reputation as being an-oh-so-wonderful-architecture-of-DOOM (that is to say, _torture)_, Nadir had to admit if there was even anything better (or worse?) than opium to keep him going.

The Shah, being the tormenting mommy's boy that he was, had insisted that Erik build a marvelous palace…and a torture chamber. While both plans and monuments were ingenious and beautiful, as per the Empress' interest, the torture chamber was not torture-istic enough.

Hence, to relieve the pressure and the heating stress and conflict that Erik himself had unflinching spread towards the Empress, Nadir had brought the talented magician to Egypt. Nadir himself knew somewhat of the Egyptian language, and, being a close official of the Shah himself, decided that these ancient sands were the best place to keep Erik at bay.

Or…so he thought.

For Erik always had some way of messing things up to go his way. Ingeniously too.

"A dead village," Erik said abruptly.

Nadir was startled out of his trance, and straightened. His eyes widened at the sight that fell before him.

"It…is…" Nadir said quietly.

Erik frowned behind his mask at the once thriving village. Now its once glorious remnants were blackened ashes and gnarled, mutilated whittles. Buildings were tainted with soot and high above, a temple was cracking and crumbling. Behind, a tall, and rather prominent pyramid, barely concealed by the former city that had been induced by flames, stood alone.

"My my," Erik said mildly. "I do wonder how many fell sacrifice this time."

"I wouldn't dare wish to ask," Nadir said solemnly. "Perhaps it is best to leave them in peace, Erik, you know the Egyptian custom as well as---"

"Let's go," Erik said abruptly, obviously unaware (or more accurately, uncaring) of Nadir's protest. The magician's eyes had lingered on the tall shadow behind the village, untouched by the hell that had occurred. "That seems to be a rather interesting pyramid…"

"Erik," Nadir protested tiredly, but no sooner had he even said the phantom's name, did Erik already step through the village of crumbling rubbles.

Nadir sighed, the hairs prickling on the back of his neck, as he followed. He was highly a religious man, and followed many of the customs he had learned. He was always the one to respect other's customs as well, and, though a noble, brave Persian official…

…he did not dare disturb the remains of the forgotten.

Sighing to himself, he quickly followed after Erik. As he passed collapsed farmhouses and barns, did he also a sign. He gave its charred stone one look, before noticing Erik had disappeared into the temple. He gave a much louder, exasperated sigh, before hurrying after his companion.

_May you rest in peace, _he thought,_ villagers of Kuru Eruna._

* * *

Erik smirked, resisting the urge to smile beneath his mask. Oh, how indeed extravagant and lovely was the temple…the past tense _was _of course, was crucial. He knew perfectly well the structures that had created such a wondrous building, and longed to sketch it. However, his mind was a sponge of knowledge; should he return home soon, he would have an exact, detailed copy drawn from his memory. 

He heard Nadir stumble behind him, clearly unwanting to be in the cursed village. Erik, of course, gave his companion no heed as he explored to his heart's content.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" Nadir asked, his voice hinting exasperation.

"The tomb," Erik said casually, beginning to feel around for a hidden switch, a disguised lock.

"A tomb," Nadir repeated. "A _tomb! _Erik, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

Erik shrugged uncaringly. He gave his friend a hard look, before a sneer.

"Don't you worry yourself, Nadir," Erik said calmly. "I have long remembered the most common of traps within an Egyptian tomb. You don't need to fear."

Nadir huffed, giving Erik a piercing gaze.

"In fact," Erik continued silkily, feeling the back wall, "perhaps even you would find them familiar…"

"What are you suggesting, Erik?" the Persian asked warily, his nose wrinkling with suspicion.

"You will see," Erik laughed, pushing hard with his fingers against what seemed to be a softer part of the wall. The ancient, charred stone gave a creak beneath Erik's fingers, before sliding back a mere two inches.

"My my. That was hardly a challenge."

Suddenly three metal spikes protruded from the door's side, nearly impaling the magician with all their strength.

"ERIK---!"

However, Erik, being the magician that he was, had managed to thrust a strange, wooden structure, including a lever dangling from the side, in between the impaling spikes before he reached out behind him to grab hold of a candleholder. He gave the holder and the wooden lever a heavy wrench simultaneously, and, like jelly, the spikes bungeed away from each other, crashing back into the sides of the door from whence they came.

"Never liked those," Erik said mildly, as he hurtled himself into the door. The entrance gave another creak, before falling apart, crumbling at the magician's feet. The mysterious Frenchman peered into the darkness, unflinching.

"Erik," Nadir gasped, blowing a stray cloth of his turban out of his eyes. "Erik! Damn you for scaring me like that!"

"You can hardly expect the tomb to be nothing less than bobby-trapped," the phantom said idly. "Now come on, Nadir. Don't make me wait all day."

"Erik!" Nadir tried again; but the foreigner had already begun to walk down the passageway. Scowling, Nadir hastily looked around, before he pelted after his companion.

* * *

They had encountered enough for even Nadir's lifetime. Swinging blades and shooting daggers and flinging trap doors and crumbling bridges… 

"My that was fun!" Erik beamed, after pulling Nadir up from a crumbling ledge.

"FUN?" Nadir almost yelled, exasperated. "Erik! We must return! You are disturbing the spirits!"

"That's never stopped anyone before," Erik smirked casually, opening yet another door. Nadir frowned. He had suspected there were two meanings, two sides to Erik's response, but hardly had the time to dwell upon it when Erik stiffened.

"What?" the Persian asked concernedly.

"We're getting nearer," Erik breathed, his excitement quite evident in his voice.

"Nearer to what?" Nadir asked, closing his eyes.

"The Pharaoh's tomb…"

At this, the Persian shot his eyes open.

"The Pharaoh's TOMB?" he almost yelled. "ERIK! Just what are you planning to do with the pharoah's tomb! That's…!"

"…I know I know," Erik snapped, walking through the newest doorway. A trap door suddenly decided to give way, and the magician vanished.

"Erik?" Nadir asked, his voice a croak. "Erik?"

….

"ERIK!"

Growling and sighing to himself, Nadir shut his eyes and hurled himself down the chute.

Down and down he slid, trembling slightly as he realized that the chute was quite the deep chute, and being in pitch darkness didn't quite help either. Suddenly, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel, but when he squinted for a better look, he was frozen with shock.

Spikes. Long, elongated, pointy, metal SPIKES!

He was going to die!

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his, clamping hard around his wrist in a clammy, icy grip. Another hand had grabbed his turban and was pulling lightly on it indicating that the Persian should look up. Nadir did so, his breath caught as he wondered who was his savior.

"If you don't mind me saying," said Erik dryly, "you are terrible at grave digging."

There stood the magician, his mask the only visible thing in the darkness, hiding in a small tunnel against the edge of the chute. Without another warning he pulled Nadir right up, and into the tunnel from which he laid.

"ERIK!" Nadir bellowed, gasping for breath and clutching at a stitch in his side. "NEVER! NEVER EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

The darker man barely heeded his companion any glance, and promptly walked down the small, cramped tunnel.

"Come, Nadir," Erik called. "The Pharaoh's tomb is this way."

* * *

That particular instant had been years ago. 

Shortly after Erik had raided the tomb ( and brought back the treasures of the Pharaoh's chamber, despite the rather annoying protests from Nadir) he had been close to being prosecuted by the Shah, and was only saved by Nadir. The Persian had ushered him to leave Persia and any surrounding countries forever, and after wandering about idly for months at a time, Erik came back to his homeland, France.

And now he was living in the cellar of the Opera House, which he built.

It was a particularly boring day that day…there were no rehearsals, and there we no auditions to listen to. He could attempt to play his Don Juan again, but for that particular moment, Erik did not feel like living. Granted, that had always been his aspect of life….so much to the extent that when cutting up dead bodies for research, he barely even regarded himself as part of the human race. He was different…he was a phantom, a ghost, a living corpse with the terrible face but the voice of an angel. He just didn't belong.

Who else had suffered like him? Existing so, with not much of a point in life? Without so much as a destiny, or a fate?

Distantly, as Erik leaned back against his cushioned sofa, his thoughts drifted back to that day when he came out of the tomb of the Pharaoh, dragging behind all the treasures he could carry. He was about to get through the Temple of Kuru Eruna once more, when…

_"That was fun," he exclaimed, heaving the bag over his shoulder. Nadir panted behind him, scowling all the way._

_"No, it wasn't," the Persian snapped._

_"You must admit, it was quite high to risk your life, wasn't it?" asked Erik, a sadistic grin on his face. "Really now, you must admit that!"_

_"What, and die and live my life as a wandering spirit?" snapped Nadir back._

_Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding light, erupting from the splitting ends of Erik's treasure bag. The seams split, and after the light died down, Erik blinked open his eyes, and stumbled back, wide-eyed._

_"Ah, unfortunately, it is such a fate to us all," said the stranger, distantly sad._

_Erik blinked._

_There stood a stranger, an utter, deranged stranger, standing before them, as though evaporating from thin air. The man was tall, his arms hanging limply by his sides, his smooth, unblemished caramel skin appearing young and youthful. Yet, those eyes told a different story…dark cerulean and distant, they reflected years, or possibly millennias, of pain, regret, and experience._

_The man had a very stern, and distant face, as one would come up to another when their death was near. He was dressed in traditional, creamy linens, swathed perfectly against his slender frame, hanging in straight angles onto his sandaled feet. A turban was wrapped around his head, and no trace of hair could be found. Erik raised an eyebrow._

_"And what did I do to deserve such a presence from you today, my friend?" asked the Phantom sarcastically._

_The man hardly replied at all, merely continuing to stare in front of him. From his neck dangled a golden key…_

_"You're a good thief, I see," Erik spoke up, wondering exactly why was this stranger stopping him from his excavation. He gave an idle wave of his hand at the Key, which Erik had immediately recognized as one of the treasures that he had stolen._

_"This is rightfully mine," said the stranger solemnly. "I am the spirit that houses within, and I am afraid, Erik, that you have disturbed the course of fate. You have stolen from the tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh, and hence, I cannot let you pass me alive."_

_"Then walk," Erik said irritably. He made a move to walk past the stranger, when…_

_Immediately, he was thrown back, his spine colliding with the wall of the temple. Golden ripples ran across his body, immobilizing him and pasting him to the wall. He could barely move his limbs. The man had held out his hand, his eyes cold and merciless._

"_You must die," said the stranger calmly. "For disturbing the tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh, you will die."_

"_NO!" Nadir yelled. Immediately, he threw himself on his knees in front of the stranger, __in a piteous entreaty. "NO! Please, sir…you must understand. Erik…he has…he has a thirst of curiosity that cannot be quenched…please sir…if you allow Erik to live, we will be forever in your debt."_

_The stranger paused for a moment. _

_"Please, sir," Nadir repeated, a little more firmly this time. "If you allow Erik to live…we will forever be in your debt."_

_The stranger looked at the kneeling Nadir for a moment, before his gaze lingered onto Erik, who could not move from his place on the walls. _

_"Is that true, Erik?" the stranger asked quietly. "Are you willing to pay off a debt in exchange for your life?"_

_"He is," Nadir said hastily._

_The stranger looked back at Nadir, before waving his hand towards Erik. Instantly, Erik landed on his feet, nursing his aching ribs. His back did NOT feel fine from the force of that collision._

_The stranger began to disappear, his body slowly eating away his transparent figure from the bottom of his dangling linen._

_"Remember, Erik," Shaadi said softly. "You are in my debt. When I am ready, I will summon you, and you will do as I say, in exchange for your life today." The stranger bowed, before his entire anatomy disappeared. "Good day."_

_Silence followed shortly after the departure. Erik wrinkled his nose, making an ugly face beneath his mask. He hated debts._

_"I don't even know why I save you," Nadir muttered, looking quite out of breath, still on his knees._

And now, thinking about such a memory, Erik decided to look and tamper around with his relics. The stranger had allowed him to go off with his business, including keeping a couple of the treasures, especially those he liked. Sadly, Erik couldn't keep all the ones he had stolen…many were sold instead, with only his favourites remaining.

Flicking his fingers against the metal lock of his secret compartment beneath his feet, he gently took out the compartment's contents. A triangular, golden relic, with an eerily eye upon it first…next came one that looked similar to it, except it was a rather flat ring, with five, sharp points dangling off the sides. Next to come into his examination was a rather long rod-like structure, with a blade hidden within. All the golden items had the strange, trademark Eye upon them.

"Interesting," Erik said mildly. "I do wonder what they were for. After all, it has been so long since anything of this sort has ever been buried with the Pharaoh…I wonder what can possibly be so special about each of them?"

Gently, he placed them onto the wooden coffee table (from which he had sculpted in his boredom a couple of weeks ago) and curiously, tapped the Eye upon all of them, wondering if there were secret compartments full of jewelry within.

Suddenly, the room was drenched in a blinding flash of golden lights. As Erik yelled and stumbled back, shielding his eyes with his arms, he watched as rainbowic mist began to seep from each of the golden Eyes, forming shapes that looked awfully human. One…two..three…five…six!

Six figures emerged, two from each of the items, their shadow of rainbow colors, flashing different shades.

Slowly, the light died down, and with it, came floating down the six new occupants. As Erik stared in absolute horror, each of the misty silhouettes had taken shape and feature. The first to come was a young boy, looking quite short and innocent, his large eyes closed and his hair in three different shades, with golden bangs and black hair tipped with crimson edges. The next to fully emerge was a tall, pale boy, soft white hair in delicate spikes and bangs billowing about his shoulders and pass, his eyes closed and looking quite comatose, even on his feet.

Next came a boy roughly the same size as the last; dark caramel skin and golden flaxen hair that swept his shoulders, the boy opened his eyes to reveal large, mysterious pastel lavender eyes, looking around curiously.

"What…in the name of Ra…?" the boy breathed.

The remaining three figures took their appearances shortly after. The first to be revived was tall, muscular, his skin the same shade as the lavender-eyed boy's. However, the newest stranger's golden hair was arranged in dangerous spikes, shooting towards the heavens. His eyes were a dark, sharp amethyst, cold and heartless, flashing lavender insanity occasionally.

Subsequently, came another; this one looked identical to the white-haired boy, though his hair was sharper, and was more erratic and messy. His dark brown eyes were flashing red, giving the impression of having eyes shaded like dried blood. He snarled slightly, baring a single, sharp fang at his surroundings.

The last to come, was the remaining spirit. Though slightly taller than the very first stranger, the remaining spirit looked relatively the same. Long, spiked black hair that shot to the heavens unnaturally; golden angular bangs framed his slender, pale face, and the black hair was contrasted with more golden strands, ending with crimson tips. When the latest spirit opened his eyes, they were narrow and regal, calm and cool, a deep rich ruby color.

Silence fell upon all seven of the different occupants, before one finally spoke up.

"Where the heck are we?" the lavender-eyed boy asked.

"Che," snapped the more dangerous white-haired stranger. "How would I know Malik?"

'Malik' looked a bit ruffled. "Look. One minute we were in Domino, on the Battle City blimp, when…"

"Where are we?" voiced the youngest looking one, his unnaturally large violet eyes darting around worriedly. Erik nearly recoiled at the size of those eyes.

"Mnnn…food," the milder white-haired boy mumbled dreamily, still looking asleep on his feet. His other companion gave him a short slap in the arm, jostling him awake, revealing dark, mysterious chocolate eyes.

"W-what…?" he mumbled, his eyes enlarging, before gasping. "Where are we?"

"No idea," all five of them chorused together.

Finally regaining his composure, Erik stood up. His eyes lingered from each of his newest companions, and having no option left, he promptly cursed beneath his breath.

"Oh dear lord," he mumbled. "Where's my opium?"


End file.
